The Craft
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: G1, au. Transformers: Covenant. Some weary travelers come home.


Chromia let out a mournful sigh then cast her gaze back to the sky. For the last several lunar cycles, she'd been having a strange feeling. A strange feeling that she couldn't quite identify.

At first, she had ignored it, chalking it up to nervous anxiety. Elita-1 had just led another raid against Shockwave's stores, leaving a couple of Decepticons dead and many more injured. Chromia had no doubts that Megatron would retaliate back. The Femmes had done that much damage this time.

After awhile, though, she knew that it had nothing to do with the raid against Darkmount. The feeling had a sense of familiarity to it, instead of the animosity that she had always associated with the Decepticons. What the feeling was trying to tell her, she couldn't say for certain. She just knew that, whatever was going on, whatever was going to happen, it was going to be soon.

888888888

The old and battered shuttle lurched and shuddered as it slowly crawled into Cybertronian air space. Its pilot, a young Femme bearing an Autobot sigil, wrestled with the controls before giving out a frustrated growl.

"That's it, everyone," she announced, a light Southern drawl permeating her voice. "We are officially dead in space. At least this old heap of slag is."

"We're not that far from Cybertron," came the reply. "I can teleport us directly there, providing you can give me exact coordinates."

The Femme craned her head to look at the gold and white Femme who had just spoken, taking her words into consideration.

Both Femmes were on the petite and light side, something that neither had inherited from either of their creators. Both had the same warm blue optics, the same white faces and trim, but that's where their similarities ended. The Femme in the pilot's seat was of a red hue and had a land-based vehicle mode that she transformed into. Her red fiber hair had been pulled into a tail that rested atop of her head. Unlike her companions, she was heavily armed, bearing two blasters on each leg, a blaster on each hip, and a few energy blades. The golden Femme had two blasters on her arms, and had an aerial mode. Each Femme had her own talents that she was particularly proud of.

Finally, the red Femme smiled and nodded her head.

"All right. We'll make it so. 'At'pren, Silverstreak. Get everything ready. We're going to be out of here in five breems."

"Will do, 'At'prafen."

'At'prafen turned back around and gazed at the screen. They were almost home, and she couldn't wait.

888888888

"Are you sure about this, Elita?" Prime inquired. The pink Femme at the other end nodded her head.

"_Very sure,"_ she replied. _"The shuttle has entered Cybertronian airspace but has yet to make radio contact with anyone. According to our readings, the ship is of Autobot origin. However, Ultra Magnus has not sent anyone out to greet the shuttle and we're unable to."_

"I see . . . what's going on with Ultra Magnus? Do you know?"

"_The Decepticons have been attacking Iacon, to prevent him from sending anyone out. Our reports indicate that they're sending a team to investigate it now. Hold on . . . something's happening . . ."_

"It's them," came quiet murmur from his left. "They've come back."

"What?" Optimus glanced sharply at Ironhide, the one who had spoken. He had almost a look of disbelief, shock even, on his face. "Who's back?"

"The twins . . . they're back . . . After all this time, they're back."

"_Optimus,"_ Elita came back, her tone almost breathless. _"You're not going to believe what's just happened!"_

"The Pax twins are back," he stated flatly. "Right?"

"_Yes. How did you . . . Never mind. Anyway, they're inside the base _right now_!"_

"What? How did they . . .?"

"_I'm not sure,"_ Elita shook her head. _"They just . . . appeared!"_

"Find out how," Prime commanded. "And find out where they've been. I've got a very funny feeling about this."

"_Will do. Elita-1 out."_

The screen went blank and Optimus rose to his feet.

'So the Pax twins are home . . . they couldn't have arrived at a better time. We need all the help we can get.'

"They teleported, Prime."

"What?" He glanced once more at Ironhide.

"They teleported," he repeated. "Goldstarr . . . she can teleport. In both of her forms. And she can teleport whatever she happens to be carrying. That's how they got into the base. They located Chromia and went to where she was at."

"I see . . ." Prime rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Recommendations on where to station them then?"

"Leave 'At'prafen and 'At'pren together. They're not going to want to be separated. And leave them with Elita. She needs them more than what we do."

"And Goldstarr and Silverstreak?"

"I'm not sure . . . we could probably use Silverstreak here, on Earth, while Magnus could stand to have Goldstarr in his ranks. They're both quick and can get to where they need to go."

"Very well then. Since I know you're going to want to go to Cybertron to see them, you can relay the orders to them. Be ready to go in one Earth hour. Valkyrie will be the one to take you."

"Roger that," Ironhide replied, before smiling a little. "And thank you."

"No problem, old friend. No problem."

888888888

'At'prafen glanced at her datapad and smiled softly to herself. Everything she and her siblings had ever encountered during their travels had been recorded onto that datapad, and it contained a wealth of knowledge, including spells and rituals from before the human world had become what they now referred to as Christianized, more than what anyone could have possibly ever imagined.

'When the time is right, everything will be complete, everything that we've worked so hard for. Starchaser, Sunrunner . . . wherever you two are, please hurry. This power isn't going to rest. Not in the least.'


End file.
